


Selfish Selflessness

by Blueishfood



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: F/M, The 100 (TV) Season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:06:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29588358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueishfood/pseuds/Blueishfood
Summary: She has to make it.“Bellamy…”, Raven says, a desperate tone rising from within her and she too searches the door, eyes darting between it and the rocket.“I know Raven”, he answers. He sees the protest in her eyes but she doesn’t say anything, only puts herself back in the seat, tightening her seatbelts silently. The storm is raging outside, orange tinting the sky as if someone had poured honey over the earth.“Bellamy!” someone shouts, asking for him to make a call. He closes his eyes tight, wills her to be there, begging someone, something to make her appear. Then,“Last call, Bell, ten seconds.” Raven sounds calm, almost bored but he knows she’s not.His jaw clenched, he turns around, sits down, straps himself in.---------"Bellamy Blake isn’t Clarke Griffin. Bellamy cares too much, he loves too deeply.He read once that selflessness was caring more about the wishes of others than one’s own. But Bellamy stopped caring about his own life somewhere between Mount Weather and the Pike massacre, and his wishes... the only thing he wants is to save Clarke.Bellamy is selfish"------------(If you really want to know: The same scene but Bell makes another choice.)
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	Selfish Selflessness

**Author's Note:**

> Just another Praimfaya fanfic nobody asked for because I'm still salty about the bellarke separation. Also, I haven't seen the last (two?) season(s) so don't spoil anything in comments??

He watches the door.

Someone shouts behind him; a blur of red runs past him and Raven keeps ranting in that annoyed tone of hers. The air smells like chlorine, Murphy spits out some sarcastic comment about it. Bellamy keeps watching the door.

For a second he wonders if he bit his cheek bloody, because something that tastes deliberately like metal spills over his tongue, and then he remembers what he once learnt about radiation signs in a cramped classroom on the arc and ignores it. The door is still empty.

His eyes flicker back to Raven, she punches in a code, but Bellamy has no idea how to know what that means in terms of what time they have left. He looks back at the door, for a split second he thinks he sees a shadow, hope rises within him and dies when no one comes storming through.

She has to make it.

“Bellamy…”, Raven says, a desperate tone rising from within her and she too searches the door, eyes darting between it and the rocket.

“I know Raven”, he answers. He sees the protest in her eyes but she doesn’t say anything, only puts herself back in the seat, tightening her seatbelts silently. The storm is raging outside, orange tinting the sky as if someone had poured honey over the earth.

“Bellamy!” someone shouts, asking for him to make a call. He closes his eyes tight, wills her to be there, begging someone, something to make her appear. Then,

“Last call, Bell, ten seconds.” Raven sounds calm, almost bored but he knows she’s not.

His jaw clenched, he turns around, sits down, straps himself in.

“She isn’t coming?” Harper’s tone is soft, perhaps on the verge of tears, Bellamy swallows down the lump in his throat. Emori’s eyes shifts between them and she scoffs, anger clearly piercing her voice when she says,

“Can’t we give her another minute?” there is something fond in her eyes now when she speaks about Clarke, something that wasn’t there a few hours ago, and Bellamy recognizes it as the unexplainable protectiveness of someone that has saved your life. A lot of people look at Clarke like that, he realizes.

His breath hitches, his heart somehow beats faster. He wants to say that they have no time, that if they stay, they will die. He needs to say it because it is true. She told him to use his head this time, to not just trust his heart. She told him- no, begged him to leave her behind if she was too late. She wanted him to be selfless, to let her go, and save the others. It was the right thing to do.

Outside the hatch, the hangar doors are closing.

Raven looks quizzically at him, maybe wondering what’s inside his head. Until she realizes and her fingers halts over the controls.

“Bellamy don’t-”

But she is already too late, his hands have worked open the straps, and he stands up, opens the hatch and storms out.

“Leave!” he shouts back at them, ignoring the panicking protests.

Bellamy Blake isn’t Clarke Griffin. Bellamy cares too much, he loves too deeply.

He read once that selflessness was caring more about the wishes of others than one’s own. But Bellamy stopped caring about his own life somewhere between Mount Weather and the Pike massacre, and his wishes... the only thing he wants is to save Clarke.

Bellamy is selfish.

The air burns when he steps outside. The suit doesn’t help much anymore, radiation seeping through every pore and crack it finds. He knows they are arguing in the rocket, hopes they take off before it is too late.

Trekking through the snow-covered terrain in the damp and heavy suit is awful, but he makes it halfway by the time the rocket launches. He can’t help but smile. His chance at survival shrivels up and dies, but at least his family will be safe. When he doesn’t meet Clarke on the way he wonders if she chose a different route or if he walked past her somewhere, passed out in a ditch.

But then the tower rages before him and first he doesn’t see her because he is looking for her at the bottom. His gaze lifts and she’s there, at the very top, her form dark and small against the blazing sky. She is tugging at the disk, and he frowns, maybe she misunderstood? But that’s not like Clarke, and he knows something went wrong when she hurls the tiny computer from the tower and it nearly takes him down.

He laughs, and it’s the dumbest timing ever, but the idea of dying from a falling piece of plastic when Praimfaya is right there is bloody hilarious. He knows when she sees him because everything seems to freeze. Her anger, sort of floats away, and her shoulders slump. She can’t possibly see that he is smiling, but he grins up at her either way, a simple; _missed me princess_? on the tip of his tongue just because he likes to annoy her.

Something rumbles in the distance and she scrambles down, nearly falling twice, until she is standing before him.

“Hey”, he says, and then he smiles like he belongs there, as if passing on his only chance to live for this girl that’s not even his girlfriend is the most normal thing in life.

“Bellamy”, she whispers, eyes searching his face. Then louder, her tone firm; “Bellamy.” It sounds more like a scolding now and he can’t help the crooked grin that pulls on his lips.

“Yeah, yeah”, he waves her off, “you can shout at me later, I’m sort of burning up here.”

“You’re-?” she stops though anger boils beneath the surface, huffs in that adorable way of hers and grabs his hand, “You are unbelievable, Blake.” Then they run.

The lab is white and all too bright when they arrive. Clarke looks at him like she wants to tear his eyes out and hug him at the same time, and he doesn’t know what to make of it. She tinkers with the medical equipment her mom used to bring bone marrow out of Luna, and finally places herself on the table.

“Are you kidding?” Bellamy asks before she can tell him her plan. “I’ll kill you, paralyze you at best.” Blisters are forming on his skin, some of the radiation must have reached the lab.

“The instructions are on the computer”, he glances behind her and sees a document pulled up, “in my book-” she tries to reach for it, and he gets it for her, she sighs. “In my book are some illustrations.”

He flips through the pages, and laughs, “when did you have the time to-?” She shrugs in response.

“I trust you, Bellamy.”

\----------------------------

It’s a stressful couple of hours. He nearly panics when she goes under the anaesthesia because somehow, he figured subconsciously Clarke wouldn’t allow herself to lie helplessly on a table while someone operates on her.

And then she does, and he is looking at her resting, that ever-present frown not entirely gone, but less prominent. The last thought going through his mind before opening the skin over her spine is that she is cute.

He throws up.

Twice.

But they get the bone marrow so it’s all good.

By the time she injects it into him, his face is red and bloody, blisters covering every inch. He feels awful. To be honest, he thinks they might die after all, but she doesn’t say anything, so he stays quiet as well. The adrenaline that has kept them going for the last few hours disappears when the black blood appears as a flowery pattern on his arm. Clarke slumps against him.

He manages to drag them both up to the office on the second floor. Clarke asks why and he answers _couch_ , and she scoffs because it doesn’t really matter when they are going to die anyway but he likes the couch, so they get to the couch. There’s also water in that room, so that’s a plus.

They are sick for weeks. Not days, no. Weeks.

Clarke can’t seem to beat a fever and Bellamy sways every time he tries to stand on his feet. When they finally can talk in more than grunts and sighs, they inch towards the nearest way out, and they dig.

It is scorching hot outside, and nothing looks like before. Then Clarke tugs her helmet over her head and Bellamy is about to tackle her back down in the bunker.

“What are you doing?” he shouts angrily, “the air is toxic!” he shoves the helmet back at her, but she only smiles.

“If the air is toxic, we’re all dead anyway.” It takes him a second, but he gets it and rolls his eyes. Clarke grins, her face nearly deprived of the boils that infuriated her a few days ago. “I think Octavia has rubbed off on you, Bell”, she laughs, and he is very mature, so he rolls his eyes again.

The lake he thought they had to cross is gone, replaced by miles and miles of sand. As he takes it all in he hears Clarke mumble, “At least we don’t have to swim”, and they both laugh.

He leaves to get the suit covers in the bunker, scrambles back up to see Clarke fiddling with a map just as she did when they first met. She glances back at him as his gaze lifts to the horizon behind her.

“Ready to move?” she asks, smile small and timid, very unlike her, he thinks.

“With you?” he grins in that cocky way he used to, letting the confidence swell up inside him and spark flames until it feels like hope, “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I really appreciate comments if you want to leave one<3
> 
> If you liked this, feel free to check out my other The 100 fic, "Forgiving or Forgetting" on my page :) I also write fanfics of Miraculous Ladybug, some Harry Potter, Anne with an E and HTTYD.


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